Cries of a White Fish
by 0Nightshade0
Summary: Fesure Whitehill is a normal girl from District 4, until she is plunged into the 66th Hunger Games. Her world is turned on its head and she has no idea what is in store for her. Will she survive? May the odds be ever in your favor.
1. Prologue

We were always taught, ever since I can remember. Taught how to work, how to live, what to think. It was suffocating, but there was nothing any of us could do about it. For we live in the twelve defeated districts, defeated by the Capitol. And no matter what we do or think, we cannot defy them. Or so the Capitol believes, yet every year we, the children of the districts from ages twelve to eighteen, still have to have our names drawn to be murdered by the Capitol for their entertainment. To be pitted against twenty-three others for only one chance to live. Every year this happens, and today is my fourth reaping. My fourth reaping for the Hunger Games. Reapings are what we call the selection, the time when the emissaries of death come to take us away to the Capitol for the games. We have no idea who will be chosen, but still all the families with children in the prime age range to be chosen spend as much time with them as possible, fearing the worst for them. I spend my possible last day wiggling my toes in the water of the sea, my feet hanging of the dock at the harbor. My auburn hair draped down the sides of my face as I watched the swirls of bubbles I might not see again, unnaturally long legs powering the mini current my ice blue eyes were watching. The moist wood grain my fingers rubbed against was soothing and always smelled of fish and the sea. I would have dove into the water right now if it weren't for the expensive reaping gown my mother gave to me. It was a light yellow, the color of daffodils and a bow the color of the light sand that lay at the bottom of the sea. We're the only district on the coast, District 4, producer of fish and all manners of seafood. If you didn't know how to swim from birth here you had to learn fast. Everything that doesn't have to do with the Capitol has to do with the fish. And that's all you'd hear on the docks, anything and everything about a fish and it's components.

I stopped swirling my feet and allowed the bubbles to cling to my feet before I flopped back on the dock. The sky was the pale blue color of early dawn; wisps of cloud skidded overhead but not enough to cause much alarm. A light breeze ruffled my bangs and brought the tantalizing scents of the market area. Fresh bread out of the oven, the musty smell of damp cotton and linen, the somewhat displeasing scent of red meats going slightly rancid but still good enough to use, and the refreshing smell of early morning fish caught even before the sun had risen. It was all to tempting for me to resist, except the meat. I pulled my feet from their position and righted myself into a standing position. I really didn't want to leave but I couldn't sit there all day. With a new objective I paced my way, barefoot, down the dock and into the direction of the market. Well that is until I fell through the dock.

I awoke to find myself half in the water with my shins resting on the seabed, and half on the dock with my arms outstretched and a gash along my chin. It hurt, yes, but no worse than getting a fishhook in your ear. I slid my hand over to the cut only to find my hand in a small pool of blood dripping through the cracks in the boards. Head wounds always bled a lot, never figured out why though. I slid my hand away again and planted it firmly on the side of the dock. I tried to haul myself up only to find my head reeling and an overwhelming desire to throw up, which I suppressed quickly. And then a small laugh escaped from something in front of me. And a familiar something at that.

"The hunger games haven't even started yet and you're already spilling blood for District 4." I opened my eyes to find myself staring at the feet of a crouching Finnick Odair. He was nice, yet he was fawned over by every woman I knew. Maybe it was because of his bronze hair, near perfect complexion or his unnaturally sea foam green eyes. I didn't know how he could stand it. Apart from being the female idol, Finnick was last years -- The 65th -- hunger games winner. But you wouldn't be able to tell by the way he acts. He was never cocky or boastful after he won, unlike some of the past winners I've seen. And he was my best friend, the only one I have ever known as a friend. I had first met him when I was eight and I had nearly drowned after leaning too far over off of a fishing boats side, too curious and no upper body strength. He, being the amazing swimmer that he is, had jumped in the water after me. Never ended up repaying him, oh well. He stretched out one of his hands to me, "Well?" an obvious sign he was offering help. On a usual basis I wouldn't ask for help from anyone, but seeing as I was nearly about to pass out again I saw it as a good idea. I gave him my half bloodied hand which he gripped tightly as he hauled me up.

"You ever get tied of pulling me out of the water?" I asked groggily, half joking.

"Never gets old." He replied with the cheekiest smile I've ever seen him with. I gripped his hand tightly as I tried to rid my head of the dizziness, staggering my feet slightly as I did so. Once I had gotten my bearings I let go of Finnick's hand and gave myself a once over. My once light yellow dress was now a more muddy golden color with streaks of red staining the collar and the front.

"Great." I murmured, not trying to be subtle. Finnick began to walk forward, and I looked up to see where he was going. I stared at him with probably the most deer in the headlights look. "Where are you going?" I asked.

He sauntered his way back to face me in a small circle, obviously making it seem as fakery serious as possible. "Well I was going to go to the market, that was until I saw you fall, or should I say nearly vanish."

"I did not nearly vanish." I protested. "The boards just…didn't like me today, that's all"

He laughed, "You completely vanished through the floor of the dock in a flailing mass of arms and legs." He doubled over laughing. And I visibly went beet red out of embarrassment. He righted himself, "Oh come on Fesure lighten up." I turned my head away, looking at the point where I fell. The rotted and broken wood, plus the blood from my chin painted a gruesome scene. If you didn't know any better you'd think someone was killed. Finnick sighed, "Well come to the market with me and then you can be publicly executed by your mother." That's when it hit me, mothers dress once so beautiful, was now no better than the rag we use to wash our floors.

I contemplated if I should go with him or stay here until my mother comes looking for me. I thought it was better to get the blight over with than to prolong my punishment. "Alright I'll come." Finnick smiled and stood to the side of the dock. He swung his arms, over dramatically, to the side.

"Madame." He said whilst tilting his head to the ground. I struggled to suppress my laughter as I walked forward.

I slapped my hand on his head and said through bouts of laughter, "Good work Finnick, the district will be proud." Then I burst out laughing as we walked off the dock.


	2. Chapter 1

**CHAPTER 1**

The market was a bustling throng of stalls and people trying to get the freshest items they can. I would have come earlier to get the best items at the cheapest prices, but the dock denied me that luxury. By now we had already stopped by the baker, gained a few loafs there, and bought a cheap net from the linens shop. In District 4 we might be one of he more well off districts, but that doesn't stop us from having little money and food at times. So the best way we shop is to barter off our extra catch or whatever else we might catch on our own time. Finnick, before hauling me from the rotted dock, had caught a few trout and a small net full of oysters. He gave me the oysters and bartered off the trout for some cheese and a small pot of oil. And he gave me the cheese, obviously perfectly fine with what he had back at his home in the Victors Village.

The Victors Village is where all the victors of the games live after they've returned to the district, hence the name. Once there the victors are given a large sum of money and a fair amount of food. Well, the whole district is given food, once every month for the whole year. That's why they're called the 'Hunger' games. Of course, you'll only get these, if you win.

We left the market soon after, I had sold off half of the oysters and gave the money to Finnick, as repayment for the cheese, despite his protests. Sauntering up the ridge to the line of small houses where I lived, I contemplated the various ways my mother would punish me for ruining the dress. I never really knew that much punishment from my mother, other than ritual spankings I'd get from getting my clothes muddy when I was little, so its very hard to imagine my mother engaging in any other form. I dropped back a couple of paces, actually worried on what my punishment will be, or even if I would have a punishment (well I would seeing as it's a very expensive dress). Finnick glanced back at me but he knew better than to butt into something he couldn't help with. I looked up at him, his back to me as we walked along the sandy pathway; he was a good foot taller than me even if we were both the same age. He had slung his usual multipurpose net over his prized trident; he was insanely good with it. It's what helped him win in the games, a trident and a net. He would capture the other tributes in the net and then skewer them with his trident. Seems gory enough, but it's just like killing a fish… isn't it? I didn't even know anymore, I was so confused and worried about everything I barely noticed when Finnick stopped in front of my house.

I slammed into his back, my market haul spilling out of my bag as I dropped it. He turned to face me, "Do try to watch where you're going, Fesure." He said nicely, with only the minute hint of annoyance.

"Sorry." I muttered as I picked up my dropped food items. I righted myself into a standing position, my things secure in my bag and I stood staring at the door to my house wondering when my mother would burst out of the door, arms flailing and face beet red with rage. Finnick lowered his head to be level with mine and leaned back on his heels slightly.

"So…when are you going to summon the dragon lady to see you? Hmm?" He said, jokingly giving me a questioning look. I kept standing where I was, staring at the door wishing I was back at the dock yet coming to the crashing conclusion that I would have fallen through anyway just by sitting there. He righted himself and stared at the door as well. "Well," He sighed. "I guess there's not much else I can do but knock on the door for you." His fist had already smacked into the doorframe before I could go and grab it. All I could do in the short amount of time was give him my best 'what the heck do you expect me to do' deer-in-the-headlights look. And all he did was back up a few paces and grin while mouthing the words 'improvise' to me before trotting off in the direction we came in. I literally panicked and nearly died of a proverbial heart attack in the twelve seconds it took my mother to reach the door, open it and screech my name to the high heavens.

"Fesure Alen Whitehill!! What in God's name did you do!" She snapped out her hands and lifted every soiled part of the dress up like it was, well a dirtied expensive dress. She spun me around and inspected every possible wrinkle and smudge spot on the dress. Once I was faced the right way again, my mother had one hand to her face and looked as if she was about to cry. "Oh now what are you going to wear?" She spoke out. "The reaping is barely an hours wait away and look what you've done! You've gone and ruined the dress!"

"I, I'm sure it can be washed clean before the reaping. Besides I got some food for supper." I held up my bag of food and brushed her fawning hands off the dress. Mother stepped to the side as I walked in, still barefoot from the dock, and placed my bag on the small table in our kitchen. It was only Mother and I in the house. My father had died before I was born, never knew how though. I walked into my room, it was small, yes, but it was just the right size for my things and me. I closed the door and stripped of the dirty dress, putting on some pants and a shirt in its place. I lifted up the dress and it really was as bad as my mother saw it. Mud had caked on and dried almost all of the dress while the top part was covered in blood. I reached up my hand to the cut on my chin, I had completely forgotten about it until now. Leaving the dress where it was I paced into the bathroom and examined the wound in the small mirror we had. It wasn't as bad as it seemed, the smeared blood and dirt made it seem worse, but as soon as I washed it off I saw that it really wasn't that big of a cut and could easily be covered by a small (quite small) bandage. I neatly plastered on a small skin colored bandage. These were in short supply but I thought my mother would want me to look my best, and this was the only way to make myself look mostly normal. Walking back to my room I could smell the light salty scent of the oysters being cooked, it was mouthwatering. I grabbed the dirty dress off of my floor, plopped it into a washbasin and submerged it in water from the tap. Already loose bits of mud and sand were floating off; it'll be the stickier bits that will be tough as well as the bloodstains. It took many buckets of water to fully clean the dress. Me having to slowly rub two folds together, scraping off the dirt and sand until the bottom of the basin had it's own seafloor. Compared to the bloodstains, the mud practically leapt off the dress. The deep red stains nearly didn't come out and when they did they left a light pink reminder of what I had done to the dress. But if you weren't looking you wouldn't notice it. I emptied the dark water of the basin and hung the dress out to dry in the light sea breeze. When I returned to the front room, my mother had placed out a wonderful lunch for us. The staple District 4 green tinted bread was laid out all sliced wonderfully with the oysters on half of their own shell lying directly beside them. The cheese had been carefully unwrapped from its wax wrappings and placed in a serve yourself manner. This type of meal never took place without good reason. And I guess the good reason would be that I might not return after today. But the odds of me going are too slim. With the amount of career tributes practically lining themselves up to be thrown into the games, one of the girls would surely pipe up to volunteer out of their own self bloodlust if my name was called.

Career tributes were ones who made the games their life. They train practically from birth to kill. They're, more often than not, the fastest and strongest of all tributes. And when in the games, they make themselves a pack of all the other careers, and when the weak ones have been picked off they kill each other. Although there have been times when someone other than a career has won. And more often than not, they're ones you'd least expect. Sometimes they completely fake their actual skill, acting like weaklings or some other deceptive tactic. I, unlike most girls in District 4, one of the districts labeled a 'career' district, was not one of the people who made the games their life. I had tried to avoid them most of my life, and I've been lucky so far. But there's no telling who will be chosen, I might be for all I know.

I nibbled on the last bit of bread, mostly uninterested with it, for my mind was on other things. By the time I regained my mind to reality, mother had put away the remnants of food and was lightly washing the table, her eyes turned away from me. I lifted myself from my seat, pushing it in lightly before stepping away to the fluttery yellow dress at the end of the hall. The Reaping gowns, the last piece (or pieces) of clothing someone will wear before being thrown into the games to die. I fingered the light cotton; it felt like silk from being washed so much. The newly soft fabric slid easily between my fingers, clinging to them with static. It really was a beautiful dress, although it seemed like such a sad piece, almost alone in feel. I moved my had up to the cream bow perfectly tied around the waist of the dress, the long end strands hanging down to where my hips would be if I was in it, softly caressing the yellow fabric in its sandy glow. I pulled it off the hanger, feeling the sun warmed dry fabric fall around my hands. "So this is what I'll be wearing to see people gain a death sentence. Huh," I scoffed, "seems pretty damn formal for executions." But there wasn't much I could do about it. Anyone who said something bad about the Capitol, especially at the reaping, would most likely disappear from their district; spirited away for some oppressive and sick form of torture, most likely ending in death. Death, death, death, everything to do with the Capitol comes to someone dying. Seems so horrible but nothing can be done, you just have to bear with it and hope you're not next.

I stripped off my normal clothes, leaving just my under things, and slid the dress on over my head. I looked down at myself in it. It was lovely, softly flowing over me as if it was made this way. It only gained this look from the steady hand of my talented mother. She was not a seamstress; she just enjoyed watching others do their work and slowly gaining skills from them. She just loved to learn, her greatest ambition in life was to be a teacher, but it was short lived when both my younger brother and older sister were sent off to the games, and didn't return. It had left her a paranoid wreck at this point in the year; always worrying that I would be chosen and she would loose the last bit of sanity to the world. That's why she'd always fuss over me, because I was her last chick in this nest, her last line for a happier life. Dark splotches began to appear on the dress and the floor; I reached up to my face and found myself crying. I didn't know why or even how I could be crying I just was, and no matter how much I would brush it away the tears wouldn't stop. Flowing down my cheeks in a silent wail I could not repeat with my voice, because I didn't know how. I didn't know how to cry. I started laughing, a worried laugh, and a laugh that I couldn't control, just like the tears. I stayed in this state for who knows how long, long enough to have no time left to do anything.

I wiped the remaining tears from my face and took in a few deep breaths, attempting to hide something I knew I couldn't. I stood and took one last look at my room before I closed the small door and made my way to the square. The square is the largest open space in District 4. It was completely surrounded by small stalls so packed together you couldn't fit a piece of paper in between them.

I walked into the square from the southern entrance to find myself staring at an enormous crowd of people encircling rows and rows of children, the possible tributes, ranging from twelve to eighteen. Elbowing my way through the crowd I found my place next to a mousey looking boy and an equally mousey looking girl. I was a good foot and a half taller than them; they must only be twelve. They were so small, to think that people as small as them were pitted against people five times their size. I broke my gaze from them, not wanting to attract attention to myself, and stared up at the large temporary stage that dominated the vision of anyone who looked forward. It was ornately decorated in ribbons and bows of various shades of blue. I wondered why they go to the trouble of the stages when they'd be deconstructed only moments after. But hey, it's the Capitol; they probably take pills to make themselves crazier than they are. Five figures walked up onto the stage, catching my attention and the attention of everyone else, signaling the near start of the reaping. Four chairs stood at the back of the stage, occupied by the Mayor, a pudgy man in his later years, Kevlar Estrange, District 4's escort. He, like every other person from the capitol dressed as strangely as they get. His hair was bright lavender and stuck out in every possible direction, and his clothes looked like they came from a whole other world; they were shiny silver and reflected the light whenever it got the chance. Finnick was there as well; seeing as he was a victor he gets a chair (unlike us who have to stand. Could have at least given us cushions), and another victor named Mags. She was quite old but very wise about the games, makes you wonder how she won hers.

The ceremony began somewhere around two and began with the Mayor spouting some unintelligible speech which has bored me over too many years of hearing the same thing over and over. He'll end up beginning with Panem's history, and I mean from the beginning of Panem and how it used to be called North America as well as how the thirteen districts rose up against the Capitol, and having thirteen be destroyed thus creating the games. Then he'll go on to read off a list of District 4s victors, with Finnick being the last to be named. I never counted how many victors were from 4.

As I became lost in my mind, the Mayor finished his speech and had introduced Kevlar. He was overly happy, too happy for my tastes, and his face seemed so fake after who knows how many alterations. "Happy Hunger Games!" He spouted out in the usual higher pitched Capitol voice. "And may the odds be _ever_ in your favor!" It was so unnatural to hear such a high voce coming from a man. He went on for a bit of how excited and honored he is to be here, but he's probably more excited about how much he'll be paid and if it would be enough to buy him a new face.

The drawing comes and I focus all my attention to the two large glass balls that dominated one side of the stage. Kevlar began with the boys, sticking his hand deep into the ball, sifting around and pushing slips here and there until he grabbed one. Opening it from its folded position he read out, "Desmond Kruug." Desmond, possibly the biggest seventeen-year-old boy I have ever seen. His arms looked like they could kill someone, and most likely they could. Because he was one of the careers, and was trained from an early age how to do some sort of fighting. He walked up the stairs to the stage with cheers and hollers coming from the other careers that had stood around them. Come to think of it the entire square was at least clapping for him. This never really happened, there was always too much fear and worry in the air for anyone to clap. And the crowd seemed almost happy, but I wouldn't blame them. Desmond is one of the best there is and he probably stands more of a chance in the games than anyone else here. As the cheering died down and Desmond took his place on the stage, Kevlar plunged his hand into the girls' ball. He was less thorough with this one than the boys choosing, only plunging his hand to the very bottom of the ball and pulling out a name. He fiddled with it to get it open and when he did he called out the name, "Fesure Whitehill."


	3. Chapter 2

**CHAPTER 2**

I nearly fell over when heard that, heard my name being called. The people in front of me parted giving a clear path to the stage. Taking tentative step after tentative step I slowly made my way to the stage.

"Please volunteer for me! Someone volunteer!" I kept on saying to myself, hoping that one of the career girls would offer to take my place. But no one said anything, the only sound that accented my ascent to the stage was the hysterical screams of my mother, begging—no—pleading for them not to take away her last child. But it was too late; I was already standing beside Desmond, his deep brown eyes giving me a worried look as I muttered to myself.

"You're going to die." I told myself over and over, completely convinced I wouldn't make it out alive. I had convinced myself that I was most likely going to be killed by this bright blond haired boy (Desmond) and the rest of the careers.

"Is there anyone who would like to volunteer for either of these two tributes?" Kevlar asked. And no one replied. No one came to my salvation. It's just my luck that the year no girl career wants to participate, I get chosen. My eyes began to water as if I was going to cry again. Geese, this was the most emotional I've ever been in my life, although I have a good reason to cry now, but I can't, not with all the cameras broadcasting my face all across Panem. I didn't want to look like an easy target to be picked off. If I was going to be killed I'm damn sure I'm going to bring some of them with me.

The stuffy rooms we were placed in did nothing to settle my raging mind. Here in these rooms is where select people, mostly family members, come to bid a final farewell to the tribute in question. Seeing as my mother has gone homicidal, I had no one to visit me. That was until Finnick quietly sat on the chair opposite me. I had barely noticed when he came in, so it was quite a surprise. Instead of raising my head to look at him, I decidedly picked a fancy looking spot on the floor to stare at. I was rather angry with him, mostly because he had won the games, he had already been through it and he would never have to go in again. It was almost like he was mocking me, sitting so casually in front of me. I didn't even see the point of him coming here he'd be my mentor along with Mags in the games. He'd be one of the only other faces I'd see before being pitted to die, and he'd be the one to say what my sponsors (if I get any) would give me. He was my very own personal reaper, deciding whether or not I live or die. It's rather sick if you ask me, nearly animalistic. But I doubt his real intentions were to sit there and taunt me, it's not his style, if he were going to taunt me he'd do it semi-publicly and in some way that would provoke laughter among others. Finnick shifted, getting something out of the back pocket of his pants. I didn't look up till I heard the slight clink of something nearly metallic being placed onto the glass coffee table in front of me. I looked up to see a small hand made choker. It had a pink pearl at the center of it with five rainbow scales of a sizeable fish acting like petals around the pearl. It was ultimately attached to a piece of beautiful black velvet. I picked it up, fingering the light fabric and the delicate nature of the pearl and the scales, though it seemed feeble and far too delicate I could tell that it was strong, nothing feeble survives the back pocket of a man. I ran my finger along the large rainbow scales, they were bent slightly in the middle and their outer edge was curved to make them look believably real. I looked up at Finnick to see him sporting a rather smug look; I scoffed "You don't expect me to believe you actually made this?"

"Oh you better believe it Fes. I made that with my own two hands." He idly wagged his fingers at me, intending for me to laugh or giggle in some manner. But I couldn't bring myself to laugh, all I had in my mind—apart from the quality and beauty of the choker—were the hundreds of ways I could die by twenty-three others in a million possible arenas with billions of traps set up by the Gamemakers.

I looked back to the smooth shiny surface of the pearl, and then back to Finnick, my face now far more solemn that the dour look than I had on before. "Why did you make this? There could have been a hundred other girls who could have come in my place. A hundred other people you could have given this too. Why now? Why here?" I paused, "Why me? What makes me so special that I am to be given something like this before I go to die!" I threw the choker back onto the table. It slid and then plopped roughly onto the floor. My hands flew up to cover my angry face.

Finnick picked up the choker; he wrapped his arms around me, clasping it to my neck in the process. "I made this so you could remember District four. I made this because you or whoever might have been here deserved to have something beautiful to remind them that it's not a hopeless fight out there, that they have a chance to beat the odds and make their mark. So that they know that they can come back alive and not be afraid of what they had done. So that they can be true victors." I looked up at Finnick, and I hugged him, he was one of my only and few friends. And I was going to loose him, along with everyone, because I knew my odds were not high enough. I was not a fighter, I was not a strategist, I was just a girl scared out of her wits and unsure of what to do. I hugged him tighter, not wanting to let go even when the white uniformed Peacekeepers came to fetch me, and Finnick, to board the train to take us to the Capitol. I didn't want this moment to end I didn't want to leave Four, and that's when I realized, I loved him. Yet I knew I had to kill that love right then, or I would die even before I set foot in the arena.

The tribute train was an under crowded picture of cleanliness, filled with so many pillows one would think it would be hard not to suffocate before getting to the Capitol. Although it would be hard too, seeing as the number of Peacekeepers hovering around the exits it quite high. And apparently as tributes we are stuck to our mentors and our district representative—meaning Kevlar—like glue until we went to the arena. In the train are various rooms, half of which I'll probably never enter, but both me and Desmond have our own room with an adjoining bathroom and fully equipped closet and dresser—or so Kevlar tells us. He also says that we can do as we wish for the next little while, yet to be ready for dinner in an hour. I slid open my rooms door and paced in—still barefoot after all this time. The bed was very large and was draped in various blankets in just as many different shades of colors. The bathroom was as equally grand as the bed, with its large shower, bathtub and a sink to boot. It all seemed way too grand for someone going to die, I more expected a wooden box and a cattle car. Unlike most who would have indulged in a luxurious bath I kept my humble mind and just washed my feet. I wouldn't want any cushy Capitol servant to have a heart attack when they saw the muddy footprints I might make all over the train.

The water coming from the silvery tap was not unlike the water back in four, although it lacked the comforting salty smell I had grown accustomed to. The silky water laced its way down my foot, carrying away most of the dirt, any still lingering I left to annoy any Capitol clean freaks. I walked back out to the extensive closet and drawers and picked myself out a nice pair of cargo pants and a simple white shirt. I pawed around the sock drawer until I found a good pair of blue knee-highs, or that's what they were before I was done with them. I found a nice pair of scissors—wondered why they'd place such a sharp object into such a private place—and cut off the foot of the socks from the heel. I fitted on the tight leg part onto my arms; the snug warmth they gave was comforting. My mother gave me ones much like these at one point, I had worn them nearly everywhere only taking them off when my mother deemed them too ratty to wear and used them to keep our fire going.

Just before leaving my room I grabbed the pale sand colored ribbon off of the yellow reaping dress and tied my hair up into a ponytail. It was far more comfortable this way than to have it loose and flopping in my face all the time. I slid open my door again to find Desmond, readying his had to knock on my door. He placed the same hand on the back of his head, sighing slightly and giving off an awkward smile. Unlike the steadfast, over confident boy I saw on stage, this one in front of me was far more shy and cautious. "Ah, Desmond, what are you doing here?" I had caught him with a question he obviously expected but hadn't prepared for.

He fidgeted, "Ah, umm, Fesure, right?"

"Yes, only one of me." I said, partially sarcastically. I began to walk down the hall, having no idea where I was going; Desmond reluctantly followed me.

Desmond trotted slightly to keep up with my fast pace, "Hey, I was wondering if you'd like to, I don't know, explore this…train with me, you know, before dinner?"

I looked up and him curiously, mostly because of his weak attempt to talk to me. "Why?" I asked. This was far stranger than I had expected would happen on the train. Desmond began to look slightly more desperate for an answer than before. He has obviously lacked the time—and skill—to talk to a girl. But he seemed nice enough that I decided to go along with it. I sighed, "Well whatever the reason is, fine, I'll come with you." Desmond looked generally surprised that I had accepted his offer. He most likely expected me to reject his offer out right and slam the sliding door in his face, but I was not like most girls in this situation. I would not cower in my room out of defiance or fear. I closed the elegant scarlet colored sliding door behind me as Desmond led the way down the hall in the opposite direction from the dining car. The grandeur and the wealthy state of the Capitol surely showed itself in the other cars if it didn't get the message across in the simple--by comparison--bedroom I had seen before. The over use of tassels and gaudy draped window hangings made the sitting room we has ventured in seem stuffy and over crowded. A large television sat at the far end of this room, slowly playing through the tribute selections from all the districts. Desmond stopped as well, mesmerized just as I was, at the sight of the strong, tall, weak, and small tributes. "We have quite the competition." I breathed.  
"You can say that again." Desmond said.  
"We have quite the competition." I repeated just to annoy him. _'How could he think like that?'_ I thought. _'We could die any moment in the arena, we could be slaughtered by any one of those on the screen in front of us. And he sits there with these silly sayings that make this all seem like a joke.'_  
"Not what I meant." He scoffed. _'Not what I meant, not what I meant. Like you could come back from that.' _I thought.  
_ 'You could try to use your silly little comebacks when you're bleeding out on the ground.' _I laughed at my mental image "Oh I know what you meant, I just wanted to see your reaction when I took in the literal sense." I smiled, I felt slightly triumphant that I beat Desmond with words. I plodded my way away from the television and to one of the many expansive windows that sat along the long walls of the train car. As far as I could see were fields of odd wild grasses and forests farther off in the distance. Though this was beautiful I missed the soothing look and the lapping sound of the strong ocean waters. My eyes changed focus off of the expansive field space and had rested on the translucent reflection if Desmond, still staring at the television. _'I wonder what his angle on all this is.'_ I thought. He didn't seem one to play the weakling card to the Capitol public, from what I saw he seemed content to play the strong career tribute card as best he could. And he was good at it. Although what puzzled me the most was why he was playing the kind person card to me when he could intimidate me with the same strength he had shown at the reaping. I rubbed my eyes; they hurt from staring at a reflection while something was moving in the background. Not to mention the puzzling nature of Desmond's act gave me a headache, but there really was only one explanation for his behavior. He was fooling with me to believe that he seemed weak, not so much of a threat in the games, gaining my trust just to fool me in the end, unless he truly was being kind to me, for just these last few days.

Dinner came faster than either of us were expecting. Kevlar marched us into the dining area, both Finnick and Mags were both seated at the table, although Kevlar was visibly unhappy with my sock arm warmers. And that made my day. The table was decorated with elaborately stitched cloths in the color of a light blue. Ornate dishes and plates of various foods adorned the center of the table. _'The smells the sights oh how it's all so tempting!'_ I thought as I came closer too the food_ 'Well it __**is**__ meant for us.'_ Though it was meant for us I still could not shake the feeling that we were all just being fattened up like pigs headed for the slaughter. I took a seat next to Finnick, he smiled to me and I smiled back, while Desmond took the seat across from me. I filled my plate with the rich foods, tasting a bit of everything before going back for what I enjoyed the most. Dinner was mostly a slow thing, with some mild chatting between Finnick and Mags, Desmond and I mostly stayed silent. After the meal was virtually over and the very quiet servants had cleared the plates, Kevlar whipped out a large notebook filled with notes in various colors. "What are those?" I asked curiously.

"And what is it for?" Desmond added through a mouthful of bread. Kevlar looked positively disgusted at Desmond's lack of so called 'table manners'. Though he seemed to recover quickly enough to go straight back into the conversation at hand. He closed the cover of the notebook and placed his hand gingerly on top of it.

"This," Kevlar replied while gently tapping the top of the book. "Is the entire schedule for every minute you're with us. From the minute you get off this train to the second you head into the arena, I know _exactly_ what you'll be doing." I looked from Kevlar to the book then to Desmond who had the same look of confusion and shock that I had on. And I wouldn't be surprised if he was thinking what I was at the time. _'That is really creepy. And almost disconcerting that it won't exactly be secret if I take a shower. Though I highly doubt his schedule was __**that**__ exact.' _Kevlar looked at a watch on his wrist and flipped to a page in his schedule.

"Well, by my _schedule_ it is time for you two," Kevlar pointed to both me and Desmond "to get to sleep. Early, early morning for us all!" He seemed keenly and almost creepily exited about our arrival to the Capitol. I on the other hand was not so keen. I meandered my way back to my room and flopped into the colorful bed. It was soft, softer that the one I slept in at home. I fell asleep soon after—clothes and all—not realizing how tired I really was. My dreams were plagued with the ever-constant fear of death.

Morning came early, maybe too early, for I still felt overwhelmingly tired. I hauled myself up from the same position I fell asleep in, stripped off my clothes and took a shower. It was nice but the immense amount of computerized options for a shower was overwhelming. I changed into a light dress that ended at my knees, and decided to put on a nice pair of sandals seeing as my feet had lacked a covering for some time now. I stalked out of my room and to one of the large windows on the side of the train. You could tell that we were very close to the capitol now; the dense forests and swaying fields have been replaced with barren landscape dotted with little reminders of civilization right ahead. A sign here a shack there and all leading up to the grandest city I had ever—and will ever—see. We passed through a tunnel just before opening up into the bright lights and colors of the Capitol. Tall silver buildings dominated the sky, their sleek surfaces reflecting all sources of light. The people traveling to and fro in the streets were dressed in vibrant patterns and colors and stopped to gawk at our train pulling in. We were an attraction, nothing more than a group of circus animals coming to perform our last act for them. And all they do is point and laugh.

* * *

_**Sorry this is a bit late. :3 But hey it's up!! Also all character, outfit, and creature pictures/drawings will be uploaded to my DevART page located with this URL.** _.com/ _**Pictures will be uploaded soon!**_


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